Jamie Kennedy eats humble pie

By Marcia Chen

Chef Jamie Kennedy says it was his overconfidence, but it took more than that to almost put him out of business.

In the middle of the last decade, while American homeowners racked up uncomfortable levels of debt, so too did Kennedy. His three-year-old JK Wine Bar was turning people away at the door. By extension, he thought, opening two more restaurants and an event catering service for the city’s well-heeled would be no problem.

It turned out his fortunes were tied to those who lost their homes in foreclosures. When the credit crunch hit, people stopped throwing lavish parties and going out to eat.

At great expense, Kennedy had just converted an east-end warehouse into a state-of-the-art kitchen and his new base of operations. Worse yet, he admits, he was spending too much time on his farm and vineyard in Prince Edward County and had lost track of his affairs. Halfway through 2007, with his company nearing bankruptcy, he returned to the kitchen.

Now, with JK Wine Bar and neighbouring Hank’s Café sold and a scaled-down staff of about 30 employees, Kennedy, 53, feels he’s ready to move forward.

This Saturday, he’s throwing a party to formally reconnect with his suppliers and customers and — as with all he does — celebrate local food.

Kennedy sat down with CityNews.ca at Gilead Café to talk about the limits of success, finding balance and Julia Child.

Was food a big part of your childhood?

Not particularly. Like everybody, I had to eat every day. But in the early ’60s when I was growing up, convenience and speed were starting to take hold. Everybody in the family sitting down together for dinner — that was becoming fractured in our society. In my home, we still had dinner together pretty much my entire childhood, but the fare was pretty plain. It wasn’t a real cultural experience.

What motivated you to become a chef?

There are a couple of things. Just the fascination as a kid going to a restaurant and ordering food and having it delivered to your table — and knowing there was action going on behind the swinging doors that led into the kitchen. That was early days in Toronto. Our family went to a Chinese restaurant called Sai Woo on Dundas, close to Bay. It was a great place. They loved kids. It didn’t matter if you were running around. It was that introduction to the restaurant as a friendly place, a positive experience.

I think the other factor was Julia Child. I used to watch her television program, The French Chef. A normal American person suddenly had a window into French gastronomy. She broke down the barriers and made it approachable and not so scary and formal.

Now that you’ve seen what goes on behind the swinging doors, what do you like about being a chef?

I still love cooking, especially in a restaurant. I love the aspect of live theatre. Every day it’s slightly different. It’s not a long-term project. Each day you get to the point where you can execute, you execute, then you clean everything up and go home. Then the next day you start again. The gratification comes from a genuine response on a daily basis for the work you do — good or bad. It can be terrible. People can find a shard of glass in their soup.

Has that happened?

It has happened. It’s mortifying.

What do you do when things like that happen?

You meet it head-on. You don’t try to deny it’s your fault. “I’m very sorry. Of course we didn’t mean for this to happen. What can I do for you?” You do cartwheels to turn people around. And people have varying responses. Some blow it off and don’t want to embarrass you further. Others are like, “Well, what are you going to do?” You can see they’re thinking, “How am I gonna milk this to my benefit?”

That’s the other thing about this business. As much as cooking itself, it’s about the people you’re serving.

Is there anything you dislike about being in the kitchen?

Nothing.

You’ve mentioned you had a rough few years. What happened?

I think it was a combination of many things. It was the beginning of the credit crunch. And whenever there’s a ripple in the economy, anything that has to do with discretionary spending is hit pretty hard. And all of a sudden our corporate party business went through the floor because people didn’t want to be seen to be extravagant.

As far as the Gardiner Museum [event catering venue] was concerned, we were not prepared. We didn’t show ourselves to be on the ball. So rather quickly there was a negative feeling people had. It started off being extremely popular in the first bloom. Once the bloom was off the rose, we were dead in the water.

And, essentially, it’s a classic case of being overconfident. “Yeah, we can do this. We can be even more successful if we expand.” It’s an attitude that should be coupled with a great dose of moderation.

Was there ever any question that you would work to save the business?

No. It’s kind of bigger than me. It’s really about a community of people who are invested in an ideology. Abandoning it would have dealt a considerable blow to the local food movement.

How do you find work-life balance?

It’s a lifelong pursuit. If you accept being a cook or restaurateur, it’s akin to being a priest. Once you’re a man of the cloth, it seems to creep in and take over. This kind of place really does require your presence whether you like it or not. The balance is still achievable, but it’s elusive. You may say, “I’m going to start taking Saturday and Sunday nights off.” And it might work the first week. It might even work the second week. Then the third week something happens and you find yourself in the kitchen on a Saturday night.

As long as you enjoy what you do.

Yeah. Often things take a back seat because of that in your private life, but it’s not so bad overall.

 

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